


Haunt Me

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF, supermega
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Ouija Board, Past Character Death, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23448889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The love of Carson’s life was gone, and he wanted nothing but to speak to him again. The only thing helping him through the days was the one promise he was given. That promise being that Matt would text him back from the afterlife.
Relationships: Carson Tucker/Matt Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. No Reply

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story I had written on Wattpad and I was real proud of it, so after rewriting it a bunch I decided to put it here. There's another story I had on my old Wattpad account that I might re upload here but I'm still debating it. Anyways, enjoy you little rats!

_Sept 24, 3:12 am_

**C:** hey :)

 **C:** so you're dead now... that sucks...

 **C:** we can still talk though at least

 **C:** i get to stay home from school for a while

 **C:** my parents are giving me time to get over your death

 **C:** i don't really know if I can go back to school with out you there, there really is nothing else for me

 **C:** my brothers miss you

 **C:** at least they aren't being jerks like usual

 **C:** well i guess I'm just going to go ahead and sleep

 **C:** talk to you soon

 **C:** i still love you <3

_Sept 30, 3:01 am_

**C:** hello?

 **C:** it's been a couple of days

 **C:** maybe you just haven't found a computer in the afterlife yet

 **C:** is it fun over there?

 **C:** maybe when you finally respond you could tell me all about it

 **C:** i really am curious

 **C:** i still really miss you and i hope you have safe travels

 **C:** love you

_Oct 13, 3:36 am_

**C:** i can't do this anymore matt

 **C:** everyday feels so much colder

 **C:** what's the point of even getting up anymore

 **C:** i miss you so much

 **C:** my parents are trying to get me back to school but i can't even get out of bed anymore

 **C:** please just respond

 **C:** do you still love me?

 **C:** am i talking to no one?

 **C:** is there even an afterlife?

 **C:** are you really gone?

 **C:** it's been about a month and i thought things would be better by now but they've only gotten worse

 **C:** i still love you matt... i'm not giving up yet

_Oct 15, 3:54 am_

**C:** please answer

 **C:** it's almost past 3 am

 **C:** matt?

 **C:** You promised...

===

Carson's eyes dance between the clock on the bottom of his screen and the text messages he had above it. 4 am ticked closer and closer, and the possibility of speaking to Matt grew farther and farther. At this point, it almost seemed impossible. Did Matt lie to him about speaking in the afterlife? Surely not. He would never lie to Carson like that. Not in a million years.

Eventually, after about five long minutes, the clock struck 4, and that beloved hour was lost yet again. Another long hour of sitting in front of the monitor, staring into it, silently begging for his love's response, was gone. Now Carson had to lay in bed and stare at his ceiling until it turned to 6, and then he'd have to pretend to be happy. He'd have to go through another day of going to school, forcing a smile on his face, and getting harassed by his fellow classmates. He'd have to suffer through the pain because there was still that light at the end of the tunnel of Matt finally responding. The light was growing dimmer, though.

Maybe Carson should've asked more questions while he still could. Perhaps he should've asked how long it would take for Matt to reply. Ever since his death, Carson had just clung onto the hope that Matt had given him. A few months before the incident, Matt told Carson that ghosts could speak through technology. Matt said to him that if one of them died, then it'd be alright because they could still text. He pushed this idea a lot. Little did Carson know what Matt was foreshadowing. Little did he know why Matt was telling him so much about the afterlife. If only Carson had noticed.

The signs were so obvious in retrospect. Matt's refusal to leave his home some days. The scratches on his arms that he claimed was just from his cat. His bloodshot eyes after nights of what Carson assumed was him crying. Matt was unraveling, and Carson thought he was holding him together. He clearly wasn't enough to keep Matt anchored here, though. In the end, Matt took a rope, and he was gone just like that.

Carson was heartbroken at first, but it was quickly diminished when he remembered what Matt had told him. He remembered Matt's continuous idea of texting from the afterlife. So Carson tried that, but after nights and nights of zero response, the anguish was returning, and Carson grew less hopeful. He didn't know how he could live without Matt. Without hearing his voice or seeing his eyes. So Carson didn't. He shut himself in his room as much as he could, and when he went to school, he never spoke. He was practically dead, and the only thing that could revive him was Matt.

So right now, Carson did the only thing he could do. He turned off his computer, went to his bed, buried himself in his mess of comforters, and cried. He kept going until his eye were sore and until he could drift off into another agonizing sleep.

===

Carson woke to the obnoxious screaming of an alarm. He threw his hand over his head and found the button to shut the damn thing off. His eyelids felt stuck together, and the dried trails of tears were still on his face. He turned over in his bed and was able to make out the bright red digits of 6:01 am on the face of the clock. It was time for him to get up and force himself through another day. Great.

It took him a second to muster the strength to sit up in his bed. He sat on the edge of it for a while, and dangled his feet below him as he silently contemplated what the day would bring. His eyes were once again hooked on his computer monitor, which was still black and shut off.

He stood and placed his feet on the cold wood floor beneath. He walked out of his bedroom, and the whole journey, he still stared at his monitor. It was as if he thought it would magically turn on, and Matt would be there waiting for him. Oh, what a day that would be.

He found himself walking down the dim hallway that led to the stairwell. The sun hadn't risen yet, so he had to find his way through the dark. He glimpsed downstairs, and he noticed that lights were already flicked on. Someone was shuffling around inside the kitchen. Carson just went ahead and started to creep down each creaky step, becoming more and more hesitant as he did so. He hated speaking to family anymore. All he found himself wanting to do when he was with them was to leave. Hideaway in his bed so he could wallow in his sorrows.

But he had to keep going and finally made it to the bottom of the steps. The kitchen was just one head turn away, and he noticed the fridge door was propped open. The familiar shape of his eldest brother, Harrison, was rummaging through it. Probably finding some eggs to make breakfast. Harrison was always the cook of the family, getting up at the crack of dawn to fix something to kick off the day right. Carson had eaten any of it since Matt's death.

The fridge door was closed, and as Carson entered the room, his brother acknowledged his presence.

"Oh, morning Carson. You're out of your room early," Harrison greeted. He already seemed so awake and alert when he probably woke up about five seconds ago. Carson used to do that, but now he just always felt like a drag.

"Hey," Carson mumbled as he stood in the doorway. He held onto the side of it and gripped it tightly with his hand. Part of him was screaming to go back upstairs, lock the door, and sit back at his computer. There was nothing left for him out here. Another part of him told him to try to talk and be a human being again. The two parts battled into a compromise of Carson remaining like a statue in the doorway, staring at Harrison and remaining unmoving.

"You usually sleep in a lot later," Harrison commented on Carson's behavior. He placed a partially filled egg carton on the counter next to him and moved to the cabinets so he could look for a pan and spatula.

"I guess," Carson kept his responses brief. He just didn't have the energy to speak full sentences. Harrison gave him a concerned look.

"You still feeling a little down?" He asked.

"How could I not?" Carson responded a little aggressively, and his voice wavered towards the end. His grip on the doorway tightened, and Harrison just averted his gaze. He resumed his mission of fixing breakfast.

"Right," he said to himself.

There was the distant sound of footsteps trotting down the stairs. Carson didn't bother to move his head to see who it was. Right now, he just stared at the floor ahead of him and silently contemplated. The owner of the steps was made clear, though, when a voice hummed and quietly sang to itself. The person made it to the doorway, and the footsteps stopped.

"Oh, Carson, didn't expect you here," Jackson greeted and navigated his way between Carson and the part of the doorway he didn't take up. He had an oblivious smile on his face and took light steps to the bar stools that lined the island at the edge of the kitchen. He plopped down on top of one and slowly rocked it left and right. His eyes observed the scene of Harrison's hard work. The stovetop was now on, and a pan was on top of it, sizzling as butter melted atop it. Harrison was to the side of it and was whisking a few eggs in a bowl.

Jackson's eyes then met with his little brother's, and he furrowed his brows at Carson's silence.

"You alright?" he asked. Carson just kept his eyes low and slowly shook his head. "Come sit over here with me. You look like a creep in the doorway," Jackson patted the seat next to him, and Carson considered the option. He didn't want to. He really didn't. But he found himself walking over anyways. He found his way to the stool and climbed onto it. He stared down as Harrison poured some of the eggs onto the skillet, and he felt Jackson's hand on his shoulder. He tensed up, and he knew Jackson noticed by the way he flinched. Jackson didn't let go, though.

"What's got my baby brother down?" he asked, slowly rocking Carson back and forth like he was doing to his own stool. Carson only wriggled his shoulder from Jackson's grip.

"What do you think?" he huffed.

"Oh, you're still thinking about that, huh?" Jackson asked, and Carson nodded. "Wow, a month later, and you're still upset. This is really hitting ya hard, isn't it? I mean, I guess I could see how. You knew him since diapers and finally asked him out about... oh what was it? A year ago? Didn't get to enjoy that for too long, huh? He was only sixteen too, what a shame. He really just-"

"Jackson," Harrison interrupted Jackson's insensitive ranting by hissing his name. "Shut up," Harrison finished with a stern look. His rambling clearly didn't help Carson's state because now the poor boy had tears brimming his eyes again. He just kept his head low. He hated crying in front of his siblings. They would always make fun of him, or at least Jackson would.

"What? I'm just trying to help,"

"Well, you’re shit at doing that," Harrison retorted. Jackson just looked over to Carson, who now had his head in his arms on the counter. His back raised and fell unevenly.

"I miss him," Carson muttered pathetically. His heart felt like acid was eating through it, and his mind was ready to just shut off and forget everything. "I want him back,"

"Oh come on now," Jackson responded to Carson's clear plea for help. "If you really miss him, it isn't that hard to talk to him again," Jackson said, and Carson jerked his head up from his arms. He gave a curious look to Jackson and his statement. He almost felt offended by it.

"What do you mean?" Carson questioned.

"I mean, just get a ouija board," Jackson shrugged nonchalantly.

"Jackson!" Harrison raised his voice.

"A what?" Carson's curiosity was peaked.

"Oh, you know that board thing that people talk to the dead with," Jackson continued to explain, ignoring Harrison's protests.

"Jackson, no, we aren't doing that shit. You don't know what we could accidentally get in contact with," Harrison scolded his younger brother like a child.

"Don't be a Debby Downer, Harrison! Let our baby brother talk to his boyfriend. Wouldn't you do the same if it was your girl?"

"No. Carson, don't listen to him," Harrison shook his head and lifted the pan of eggs from the stove. He placed it to the side and went to the cupboard opposite of his brothers to fetch a plate. While his back was turned, Jackson quickly grabbed a napkin close by. He pulled a pen from a cup and began to scribble something down on it. He folded it up and shoved it into Carson's hand before Harrison turned back around.

Carson looked over to his older brother, and Jackson just held a finger to his lips and let out a shhh.

Carson unfolded it under the counter where Harrison couldn't see and began to read the chicken scratch that Jackson left on it. He could just barely make out these words:  _ creepy corner store, get a board. Then try to talk to Matt ;) _

Carson folded the napkin back up and looked to Jackson. He nodded in agreement, and now the deal was sealed. If texting over the computer didn't work, then maybe this bizarre form of texting would instead. What could go wrong?


	2. Message Failed to Send

Carson's eyes never left that analog clock on the wall. His foot bounced impatiently under him, and his fingers tangled each other up. His mind was everywhere except for in class. The ideas of what events could occur later that evening were intriguing. They infected his head and refused to let him think of anything else. 

His teacher had taken notice of this as she pointed at the oversized whiteboard pinned to the front wall. She watched Carson's curious behavior. She was used to him not paying attention, but when he did that, he was usually in a ball on his desk. For once, he actually seemed excited about something.

Carson had one of his hands gripped to his book bag strap next to his desk. His heart welled up with excitement as the clock's second hand ticked closer to turning the hour.

When that bell finally rang, he was the first to leap from his desk, throw his bag over his shoulder, and dash out of the classroom door. By the time he was in the hallway, there was barely anybody else that had escaped their own rooms yet. He sprinted down the corridor as it became more cluttered with busybodies; he just shoved past them. He was given a few harsh words and sharp looks, but it was a small price to pay.

He eventually made it through one of the school's exits, and he was finally free of its walls. The sun was on his face, and his eyes were frantically searching for that old grey-blue car that had been passed down to Jackson.

He finally found the vehicle parked in one of the front rows, and Jackson was on the driver's seat with his phone in his hands. He remained preoccupied with his device while Carson continued to run his way over. Through the courtyard, he sailed, and when his hand wrapped around the door handle, he pulled on it so hard it felt like the door was about to come off.

He clearly startled Jackson as he was pulled out of his train of thought. Carson just hopped in and threw his belongings in the back seat.  
"Come on, let's get going," Carson urged, buckling himself in.

"Okay, okay. Jesus, you're ready for this, aren't you?" Jackson chuckled as he turned the ignition.

"If I get to speak to Matt then I'm always ready,"

"You know we can't do this till it's like late, right?"

"Okay, that's fine. But we still need to get prepared and stuff. Get the candles, get the board, find a location," Carson began to list and rant as Jackson pulled out of the busy high school parking lot.

"Wow, you did your research," Jackson commented on his brother's sudden knowledge.

"Yeah I did, but there's one thing I couldn't find out,"

"What's that?"

"How do we know if it's Matt we're talking to?" Carson watched the way his brother's face turned, trying to come up with an answer.

"Uh, don't worry about that. If Matt really wants to talk to you, then he'll find his way," Jackson eventually responded, and Carson's eyes moved to the road in front of them. Concern settled in his chest. Did Matt want to talk to him? 

"Okay, as long as you're sure," Carson spoke a little quieter then he meant to.

"Oh, trust me, something's gonna happen tonight. I'm positive,"

===

Pitch black rooms. Night crickets singing outside the windows. Creaky footsteps. It felt like something from a horror movie.

Carson just sat patiently in his chair and swung his feet underneath him. His hands were on the table, letting him know there was something to hold onto. He heard Jackson shuffling around in the dark, fidgetting with whatever he was messing with.

There were a few clicks, and then a small light lit up in the corner of the dining room. A flame barely the size of a fingernail floated in front of Jackson's face, and two candles could be seen in his other hand. The way the puny flame lit his brother's face was unsettling.

"I found it," Jackson raised his brows and spoke in a goofy tone. He approached the table Carson was already at and sat down opposite of him. He placed the candles down and held the lighter to them. They slowly lit up, and as they did, they revealed a box in the center of the table.

Carson looked down at it nervously. He swallowed and readjusted in his seat. His heart was beating a little too fast for comfort, but he was good at keeping it contained.

Written on the side of the box right under the big 50% off sticker was the words, Ouija Board. It was surprisingly easy to find. Carson would've expected it to be a little bit harder to obtain with all the shit that happens with these things. Yet it was not a cent more than Candyland.

Jackson reached for the box after he positioned the candles on the table. He began to tear the box open and unease set into Carson's chest as he saw the large board getting pulled out. It was placed on the table, and he found he couldn't look away from it. His eyes raking the numerous letters and numbers in their rustic font. Jackson took the planchette out and turned back around, observing his brother's curious silence.

"You alright?" Jackson asked, breaking Carson out of his trance.

"Oh, uh yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Carson nodded a little too enthusiastically and cleared his throat. He once again readjusted himself, and it felt like the room was getting a little hot.

"Alright, Jackson plopped the triangular piece on top of the board and centered it. He placed the tips of his fingers on the planchette and nodded to his little brother. "You know the drill. Put your fingers on it,"

Carson slowly reached, noticing his fingers shaking a significant amount. He ignored it, though, and slowly made contact with the plastic. He involuntarily held his breath and waited for something to go wrong. He felt like just holding this was going to get him possessed or something. Jackson was amused by the tense behavior.

"Oh calm down will y-" Jackson was interrupted mid-sentence by a strange knock coming from behind him. Both of the boys spun around and stared at the source of the noise. Carson felt his face go pale and let go of the planchette.

"You know what, we can just not," Carson was about to stand.

"No! You wanted to talk to Matt, and this is your chance," Jackson urged, pointing back to the seat. "Sit down, it'll be okay,"

"We haven't even done anything, and there was a mysterious fucking knock!"

"It was just weird house noises, you know how it is. Calm down and sit, you big baby," Jackson reasoned, and Carson took a deep breath. It took a lot of him to sit back down, but he was able to do it. He was still on red alert, waiting for some unknown force to throw a chair or something.

His hands warily made their way back to the triangular game piece, and his eyes continued to flicker. Jackson just rolled his eyes at his brother's paranoia.

"Alright then, you start," Jackson nodded to Carson.

"What?"

"Ask if anyone is here," Jackson explained, and Carson didn't exactly like the idea of being the first to start this thing.

"What? Why me?"

"Because Matt might be more attracted to your voice,"

"Is that really a thing?"

"Yes! Maybe... just ask if anyone is here or not. Geez Carson," Jackson sounded impatient, having been worn down by Carson's worry. He tapped his foot irritably, and Carson finally took in a deep breath. His nerves were quaking, and his hands were unsteady, but he finally mustered out a sentence.

"Would uh... Anyone like to? Anyone like to speak tonight? With... us," Carson sounded less than confident. His tone was barely above classroom speak. The two sat there in silence, and it seemed like even the thing that knocked earlier was disappointed by Carson's efforts. 

"Oh come on, that was pathetic," Jackson finally spoke up.

"Well, you do it then!" Carson shout whispered, scared that something in the other world would be disturbed by a voice any louder.

"Okay fine. Always have to do everything for you," Jackson joked as he rolled his eyes. Carson was in no joking mood and instead just stared at the board.

"Well, uh. Is there anyone in this room that would like to speak to us tonight?" Jackson sounded far more confident compared to Carson's attempt. His voice was strong and consistent. Now all they had to do was wait.

More silence as the seconds ticked by. Carson felt his previous anxiety get dampened by disappointment. Maybe he wasn't acting the most excited for this previously, but in reality, he did want this. He wanted Matt again, and now they might have messed that chance up. Was it because of Carson's original question? Did he fuck it up? Of course, he did...

Carson opened his mouth, about to speak, but it was cut short when he felt something shift under his fingers. He jerked his eyes down and noticed the planchette was sliding on top of the wooden board. His gaze immediately flew to Jackson's, looking for his reaction, and being met with a pair of astounded eyes.

"Holy shit," Jackson whispered in awe.

"Jackson, are you moving it?" Carson asked, a part of him not believing this is working.

"No, why would I do that?" Jackson responded, his eyes not leaving the playing field.

The planchette glided across the board with ease and eventually found itself coming to a stop. Jackson leaned over and peered through the transparent center, trying to read the answer of the newly invited guest.

"Yes," Jackson read. He leaned back in his seat, and the two brothers looked at each other in dead shock. A smile spread on Jackson's lips, proud of what he has done. Meanwhile, Carsons's eyes fell back to the board and stared at it like it was a dead body.

"Now what?" Carson asked.

"Let's make sure it's who we want it to be," Jackson suggested.

"How? Do we just ask it?"

"Duh," 

"Can't ghosts lie?"

"Pfft, no, of course not," Jackson giggled, making his brother feel like an idiot for asking. "Just go ahead and-" Jackson was cut short by another knock from behind them. The two jerked their heads around in the direction of the sound. They sat in momentary hush, listening for any other racket.

"Matt, is this you speaking to us?" Carson asked, looking in the direction of the knock. Jackson was surprised by how much stronger his voice sounded that time.

Carson counted three seconds before the planchette moved again. It danced it's way across the wood, and the brothers watched it closely.

It looked as if it was about to land on no. Carson's face slowly losing light as it inched closer. It suddenly made a u-turn, though, and headed back to the other side of the board. It gradually came to a stop and was at the same destination it was before.

"Yes," Jackson read it out loud, and Carson felt a wave of tears rush to his eyes. He wanted to take his hands off the planchette and cover his face, but he knew he couldn't. Joy was overwhelming as he realized that he was, in fact, speaking to his deceased lover. He was in this room with them.

"Holy shit Jackson," Carson wanted to kick his older brother out now. He wanted his solitude with this spirit, but he knew he couldn't. Jackson's hands were on the board, and letting go wasn't an option.

"Come on, more questions," Jackson urged, excitement planting itself within him.

"Matt... holy shit... I-I missed you," Carson stuttered, trying to organize his thoughts into one steady stream. There were so many things to say, but he knew this couldn't go on for long.

"Was that you knocking?" Jackson butted in since it sounded like Carson wasn't going to give Matt a chance to speak. They both watched as the planchette once again moved in response and landed on an answer.

Carson, this time, leaned over and felt his chest weigh down slightly when he read the response given.

"No..," Carson's voice squeaked slightly, and Jackson furrowed his brows.

"Can uh... Can there be more than one spirit at a time?" Carson dared to ask Jackson, but instead, the board decided to answer. This time the planchette had to move between letters and spell out its words. Travel to each letter was agonizingly slow.

"D... A... N," Jackson began to read off, another loud knock sounded from behind, but this time it was far more aggressive. It caused both of the brothers to jump, and Carson nearly propelled away. His anxiety from before had made an unwelcome return. The planchette moved quicker as if Matt was even startled by the knocking.

"G-E... R" Carson was able to read off, and he tried to organize the letters in his head and spell out the word. The planchette had fallen still.

"Danger?" Jackson asked, and Carson's jaw dropped when he realized his brother was correct. Matt was warning them.

"Carson... maybe we should-" Jackson was about to suggest something but was interrupted when the light to the room they were in flickered on. The sudden change in brightness caused the boys' eyes to squint. Carson frantically looked to the only light switch in the room, trying to find what had turned them on. It, in fact, was flipped the other way.

"What the hell?" Carson voiced his concern.

"Maybe we should quit," Jackson finished his previous suggestion that had been interrupted. Carson opened his mouth to protest, not wanting to leave Matt without a proper goodbye, but the board had beat him to it.

The planchette practically flew as it moved from the "R" it was left on and landed on the no. Carson felt his heartbreak at the idea of Matt so desperately trying to keep them there.

"I think he's scared," Carson spoke softly, looking down at the wooden board with sympathy.

"We can try to talk to him later, but if there's something else-" Jackson tried to speak, but before he could finish, the lights began to flicker. Violent and seizure-inducing. It began to cause a headache to stir in Carson's head, and his stomach twisted in nauseous fear.

"Oh fuck this," Jackson spat, and Carson only held tighter to the planchette. He imagined Matt's fingers on there with his own, a sort of indirect, direct contact, and a source of comfort.

"Matt, who else is here?" Carson tried to ask through his fit of fright. When he asked, the reaction was almost immediate, and it felt strangely unkind. The planchette threw itself around the board, landing on nonsense and offering nothing useful.

"Matt?" Carson asked, and when he did, the planchette froze, and underneath it was no. Carson's blood ran cold, and he tried to look to his older brother for help. His eyes silently pleading for an explanation of what was happening.

The warning Harrison had given them earlier in the day suddenly came into Carson's mind.

_"Jackson, no, we aren't doing that shit. You don't know what we could accidentally get in contact with,"_

The words made Carson shiver, and his headache continued to pound behind his eyes. The light flashing soon stopped, and now everything was still. An unfriendly coldness was still lingering, and Carson was determined to continue with his conversation. Anything for Matt.

"Where's Matt?" Carson demanded, needing his security back.

The planchette moved slowly and eerily, fitting the unsettling atmosphere of the room. Jackson had a definite concern in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't get anything out. Carson only watch closely as each letter was given to him.

G-O-N-E

Jackson and Carson's eyes met at the same time, and neither of them said the word out loud. Carson's heart had fallen to the floor and was buried six feet under. This thing wasn't Matt anymore, if it was even Matt in the first place.

"We should probably end it," Jackson finally spoke, breaking the silence into pieces, just like Carson's heart.

Carson was ready to agree, but then the chair next to him moved. The scratching sound of the furniture on the tile floor caused Carson to flinch. The chair looked as if it was hit from underneath, like something was crawling under it.

Carson let out a scream of bloody murder, and the second he did, he felt something cling onto his ankle. It felt in human... not something of flesh. Carson couldn't take it anymore.

He had let go of the planchette. He used his hands to push himself from his seat and tried to sprint off, but the hand holding his ankle only caused him to fall to the hardwood floor. He tried to look to the source of the grip, and he was met with the grim sight of a dark humanoid figure. It's eyes reflective and piercing, digging into his being.

Carson shouted before he tried to crawl away, but it's holding on him was tight. He felt tears pool in his eyes and blinked to let them escape to his cheeks. He felt like he was being suffocated by the thoughts flowing through his mind.

Was this it? Was this his untimely demise? He should've listened to Harrison. Of course, Jackson was going to get him in trouble.

He could always look to the bright side, though. At least he'd see Matt again.

As he continued to scream, his ears finally picked up something he didn't expect. Laughing? Someone was laughing? At what? Was it the creature?

Then after a moment, Carson noticed the cackling was coming from Jackson. He looked as if he was to the point of tears. His hand covering his eyes as it held his head up. His shit-eating grin plastered on his lips.

Carson felt offended. Was this supposed to happen?

There was more laughter. The thing on his ankle was laughing as well. It sounded kind of familiar actually... wait a second.

"Holy shit Carson, get up," Jackson managed to say through his laughing fit. Carson still wasn't entirely sure what was going on as Jackson stood and walked over to flip on the light switch. The light-flooded the room, and Carson squinted as his eyes tried to adjust.

He looked down at the thing on his foot and felt his mind flip when he saw who it was. It was no demon clinging onto his ankle, ready to drag him into the fiery pits of hell. It was Harrison... wearing dark clothes and gloves?

Carson was just left paralyzed by shock, uncertain of how to react. He didn't want to believe what was right in front of him.

"Hey, you alright?" Jackson said through his laughter. He reached down to help his youngest brother from the floor, who was trembling and wide-eyed.

As Carson was dragged into a standing position, Harrison had let go of him and stood as well. He continued to giggle as he made eye contact between his two younger siblings.

"You did such a good job, man," Jackson complimented Harrison, the other looking proud of himself.

"Yeah, not bad when we improved most of it. Still think it might've gone smoother if we planned it out more,"

"Eh, we were fine. I mean, we scared him," Jackson lightly shook Carson, so they all knew who the "him" was he was referencing. "Looks as if he's seen a ghost," Jackson joked and another wave of giggling came through, digging into Carson's skin.

"You're okay now, Carson, calm down," Harrison said in what could be taken as a condescending tone. The youngest suddenly felt something boil within him as he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. More tears forced their way from his face, but he wasn't embarrassed of them. They weren't sorrowful... they were pissed.

"Did you see the look on his face when you moved that chair?" Jackson continued to poke the bear.

"Oh yeah, and whenever he screamed," Harrison joined in. Carson couldn't take it anymore.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two!?" Carson barked, and the two other boys looked to him, startled by his sudden harsh language.

"What?" Jackson responded in an innocent tone that made Carson want to hit him over the head.

"What the hell just happened?" Carson pointed to the board. The damned thing made him nauseous just looking at it.

"Oh well," Harrison volunteered to speak. "Jackson mentioned it to me. You've just been stuck in your room so much, and we were trying to find something fun to lure ya out with. We discussed it, and we had this fun little prank so-"

"Fun!?" Carson interrupted. He heard enough of what happened behind the scenes. "Fucking fun!?"

"Yeah, I mean-" Harrison attempted to speak again but was shut down in a heartbeat.

"No! This isn't fun! You know how much I've wanted to speak to Matt! I thought I had that chance, but it was just for your sick amusement!"

"You make it sound like we did something evil," Jackson rolled his eyes.

"It's the most evil thing I've seen you do!" Carson spun around and spat at the other. He realized the underlying expression of fear on Jackson's face. Neither of them had ever seen Carson this angry before. Carson hadn't even seen himself this angry before.

"This is cruel! You could've done anything else! Dump water on my head, take me to the middle of the woods and ditch me, fucking beat me over the head with a baseball bat for all I care! Just don't give me false promises about Matt!" Carson's voice was strained as his voice rose, and more tears streamed down his face. 

Jackson and Harrison were both dead silent, and their original amusement was replaced by what Carson hoped was guilt.

"Carson," Harrison spoke softer now as he reached a hand out to the youngest brother, but Carson only pulled away.

"Don't touch me, you fucking prick!" Carson shouted. He could see the look behind Harrison's eyes as it slowly came down from whatever sick enjoyment he had before.

"F-fuck you two," Carson finished. He knew he sounded immature, but there wasn't any other vocabulary he knew to express his frustrations at the moment.

Before another word was spoken, he spun around on his heels and left the dining room. Down the hallway he marched and found his way to the front door. He unlocked it, opened it, and closed it behind him without a single protest from his other housemates.

His parents were gonna be home in a few hours, and he couldn't wait to hear the excuses his brothers would have for his absence. They'd probably just tell them some bullshit that would get him in trouble and clear their name. They always did that.

Right now, Carson didn't even plan on ever going back home. He had truly lost everything, and no one was willing to help him. There was no point in returning.

He was just going to find a place to sit and blow off steam. Clear his mind and think for a moment.

Carson already had an idea of what he was going to do when the dust settled, though.

He was going to see Matt again... No matter what it takes.


	3. Hello :)

Never before had Carson felt so absolutely hopeless. Not once had he ever felt like everything to live for was so gone, so far away, so intangible. At this point, Carson really was holding onto nothing.

His face in his hands on that park bench. The street lamp close by being the only source of light. Tears gently trickling from his eyes and through his fingers. On his jacket, they fell, and with every drop, his mind only grew darker.

As he sat there, quivering with sorrow, there was only one option going through his mind. His only real chance at seeing Matt again. He would simply go out the same way the love of his life had. But how would he do it?

Carson was scared of pain. He'd need some way quick and painless. He'd need to do it somewhere that no one would ever find him. He needed to write a note to his family. He needed to prepare.

So after his session of sobbing his eyes out, he had to plan. He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Then he'd be with Matt forever, and everything would be perfect again.

As ideas wheeled through his brain, he heard something on the bench next to him, warning him of something else there with him. Carson fell silent with his whimpering, and involuntarily held his breath. He prayed that whenever he looked over, it wouldn't be one of his horrible brothers.

Between his fingers, with a subtle tilt of his head, he looked over to the new presence next to him. It definitely wasn't a family member of his, but a person was sitting on the bench next to him. 

Carson only dismissed their presence, not too concerned by them. If it was some madman that was going to drug him or something, it'd only get him where he wanted to be faster.

Then... they spoke.

"You okay?" Their voice was shockingly familiar. It sounded almost as if it wasn't coming from next to Carson, but instead from another room. He was thrown off by the bizarre tone, but Carson only stayed silent.

"Why are you crying?" They continued to question. Carson's patience was thin, he really wasn't in the mood for some weirdo to come up and console him.

"None of your business," Carson grumbled, speaking into his hands and making it hard to understand him.

"Oh... Well, I'm sorry," the person sounded genuine with his apology. He fell silent, but Carson could tell he was still there. In the corner of his eye, he saw the figure, and he just wanted to know what this guy wanted.

"Just thought you looked familiar," He mumbled, just barely loud enough for Carson to hear.

"Sorry, I don't know you," Carson let his hands fall to his lap, and his head was still hunched over. He stared at his quivering hands, the palms stained with his tears. He let in one big sniff, trying to keep anything besides tears from leaving his face.

"Are you sure... you don't need to uh... talk about anything?" the stranger offered once again, and Carson sighed. When was he ever going to see this guy again? What was the harm?

"I hate my brothers," Carson finally grumbled, clenching his hands tight.

"Why's that?" This new person had an underlying tone of kindness that was comforting to Carson. He felt compelled to spill his whole heart out to this guy.

"It's... it's a long story,"

"I'm sitting in a park at 3 am, I really don't have anything better to do right now,"

"I guess you have a point," Carson shrugged. He sat up straighter, and he still refused to make eye contact with the stranger. He treated it kind of like a confession, not wanting to look the other in the eyes.

"Well... I guess I've just lost someone super close to me. I mean...  _ super  _ close,"

"Lover?" the stranger interrupted, and the word caused Carson's heart to pang.

"Yeah... Love of my life. They're dead," 

"Geez,"

Carson spilled his heart out to this person. He let out every last drop of what he had trapped in him. All of it handed over to a stranger for him to ponder and think about. Carson wasn't sure what the other thought about him. He didn't know if he was silently judging him or if he felt remorse for the boy, but Carson knew he didn't have anything to lose anymore.

Time flew by, and Carson's chest was relieved from the pressure built upon it by recent events. He felt numb, and almost as if he was floating on the bench where he sat. He noticed he could breathe a little easier. 

Another thing he realized is that the whole time he was talking, that stranger never said a word. Was he paying attention to Carson, or did Carson manage to bore him out of listening?

"So that's where I am now," Carson muttered. "And to be honest, I don't know how much longer I can go on,"

"Killing yourself fixes nothing," The stranger interrupted, and his voice was quite harsh. It made Carson jump a little.

"What do you mean?" Carson asked, confused by the sudden hostility.

"Killing yourself doesn't take you to a better place. You just become lost and incredibly lonely. If you kill yourself, you won't find your loved one under golden arches, you'll only find yourself in the same cold world, but it's fifty million degrees colder. You'll wander the earth trying to find the one you lost, but you won't find them," The stranger rambled, his voice sounding slightly choked as if he was holding back tears.

"How... how do you know this?" Carson asked after there were a few moments of muffled sobbing.

"I did it. I thought things were going to be so much simpler, but it's done nothing for me but wish I hadn't done it," He broke down more and Carson's brows furrowed. His mind tried to process what was being said to him.

"What I thought was going to be good for me ended up having such a sad ending. I've been wandering the streets for so long just to find the boy of my dreams again. But, you know what Carson?" Carson's heart almost stopped, and the world around him felt frozen. How did this guy know his name? And why did it feel so right?

"What?" Carson asked and finally turned to make eye contact, and his jaw dropped when he did it. Those blue eye eyes. Those thin lips. That pale face...

"I found him," the stranger whispered, although now Carson knew he was no stranger.

"Check your computer,"

Then with that, Matt shot off the park bench and sprinted away. His long legs offering him some speed. Carson barely had a second to think before he stood and stumbled after the other.

"Matt! Wait!" Carson tried to pick up speed, shouting for Matt to slow down. Tears pricked at his eyes yet again, but this time they weren't from sorrow, but instead overwhelming joy of finally finding him.

He continued to shout as he ran after the lanky figure. Matt had a light aura floating about him, his body slightly transparent. The streetlight traveled through him strangely, as if he was made of glass. Carson didn't know if he could take his eyes away from him if he wanted to.

He heard neighbor's dogs barking around him, helping him disturb the peace of the suburban neighborhood. His legs grew tired, and his breath became laborious. Lights in houses flickered on as people grew curious about Carson's shouting. It didn't stop him.

Soon he noticed Matt's outline was becoming fainter, his figure growing less opaque. Carson's heart tugged for him to move quicker, to catch him before he disappeared.

Before Carson knew it, Matt was entirely out of sight, but now he was under the flickering porch light of his own home. The familiar wooden door in front of him.

"Check your computer," Carson whispered through his panting, remembering what Matt had requested.

Carson wasted no time throwing open his door and rushing through the living room. The flight of stairs was clear in front of him. His bedroom just up them and a surprise waiting on his computer screen. He just needed to get to it.

His footsteps were heavy up the stairs. It was only a few steps he took before he felt something grab hold of his arm. He thrashed a little violently at first but stopped when he heard his brother's gentle voice.

"Carson wait, please," Jackson spoke, and Carson turned, giving him a venom-filled glare.

"What?" Carson hissed. He noticed Harrison's figure behind Jackson, and he wanted to roll his eyes and move on. He didn't have the patience for these two right now. It wouldn't break his heart if he never saw them again actually.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Jackson sighed.

"No, you're not. You're just saying that," Carson gave one last tug on his limb, but Jackson held tighter to it.

"I really mean it, dude. It wasn't right for me to do that," Jackson insisted.

"We were both idiots. We didn't understand how much Matt's passing affected you, and the joke was insensitive," Harrison put in his own words.

"But at the end of the day, you're our baby brother, and we care about you. Hurting you was never the idea, we just wanted to have you back. We missed you, and that was our idiotic way of getting you out here," Jackson sounded like he was on the verge of tears. He either really meant what he was saying or was a hell of a good actor, and last Carson checked, Jackson couldn't act for shit.

"Will you forgive us?" Harrison spoke up, and Carson stood still. Somehow, even with all the tears shed this night, Carson still had a few left for these assholes.

He didn't respond with words but instead spun around and wrapped his arms around both of his brothers. He held them in a forgiving embrace, letting them know he accepted their apology. They hugged back, and there were a few warm seconds of brotherly appreciation. Carson really didn't know what he'd do without them.

Carson's mind was soon redirected to his original goal, and he realized he had things to do. He pulled away from the hug and left the two older boys one last thank you before he spun around and dashed up the staircase.

He tore into his room, and it felt like the door was about to fly off its hinges. His eyes scanned his desk, and immediately, he noticed his rickety swivel chair was pulled out and pointed towards him. He didn't leave it like that, but he had a feeling he knew who did that.

He jumped into his seat, turning it towards his desk, and shook his mouse a bit. His computer was already on, and his monitor lit up the darkroom. His eyes scanned the screen when he noticed his messenger was already open, and he couldn't stop a grin from taking over his face when he read the text displayed on the screen.

_ Oct 16, 3:47 _

** M: ** hello :)


End file.
